


there is no mathematics to love and loss

by nowrunalong



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Multi, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-28 23:53:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14460546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowrunalong/pseuds/nowrunalong
Summary: Some people need to hear the words.A collection of one-shots. Pairings are listed in the chapter index!





	1. fiona/athena: things you didn't say at all

“So,” Fiona says, “I heard you got engaged. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Athena replies, sitting down on the rocks, her shield in her lap. “And—thank you. You saved my relationship.”

Fiona moves to sit down, too, and lets her legs dangle over the edge of the cliff. It’s a long way down to the bottom, but she’s never been afraid of heights.

Cross-legged beside her, Athena’s posture is uncharacteristically hunched, her shoulders bent forward, almost self-conscious. “I would have said it,” she adds. “I would have said that I—I would have said it.”

“I know,” Fiona says.

She knows how hard it is to put feelings into words, no matter how much they overwhelm you.

She knows that—for people like her, like Athena—actions do the job so much more efficiently.

She knows that some people still need to hear the words.

“She really didn’t know?” Athena asks, awkward, facing away from Fiona like she’d rather be talking about anything else. “She was… surprised?”

Fiona doesn’t have a right answer. What does it mean that Janey Springs hadn’t been sure Athena really cared for her, and that _she’d_ noticed it, clear as day?

She tosses a rock into the canyon and says nothing at all.


	2. rhys/sasha: things you said when you were scared

“You’re scared,” Sasha says, poking Rhys in the gut with a painted fingernail. “Aren’t you.”

It’s not a question, and Rhys knows it. She’s always been able to see straight through him.

“No,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. At Sasha’s raised eyebrow, he tries again. “I’m not scared!”

“You’re not,” she repeats.

“Are you?”

She looks at him; traces circles on his thigh with a fingertip, thoughtful, and then pulls back from him. “A little bit.”

Rhys isn’t expecting this.

“Really?”

“Fi said it’s probably normal. She says she bets everyone gets at least a little—”

“Terrified?”

Sasha shrugs, still thinking, and Rhys wraps his arm (the entirely normal, non-cybernetic one) around her shoulder, prompting a sigh from her. She leans back against his chest and rests her head on his shoulder.

“Why are you scared?” she asks. “You’re marrying _me_. I’m pretty great.”

“Why are you?”

Sasha doesn’t answer immediately, and Rhys is aware they’re both avoiding the question. Some truths are hard to share.

“I think,” Sasha says slowly, “it’s ‘cause of…” She stops. Thinks some more, and then shakes her head. “It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not,” Rhys says.

“I love you,” Sasha says.

“Well, I _am_ the most supportive fiancé on this side of the galaxy.”

“No, dummy,” Sasha says, nudging him her elbow, “I _love_ you. I’ve never said that before and meant it.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?”

“Oh… my God,” Rhys tries, mostly at a loss for words. Sasha loves _him_. _Really_ loves him. And she’s never—not with anyone—

“It’s scary!” Sasha says, defensive now. “And stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Rhys says again. “It’s—it’s a thing. Love is scary. It’s all—ahh, commitment, and ooh, marriage and babies, and wow, everything is new and different because she’s so beautiful she makes the world look brighter and better than it was before, annnd I’m gonna shut up now before I say something weird, or embarrassing.”

Sasha reaches for his hand and laces her fingers through his. “Dummy,” she says again, but he can hear the smile in her voice.

“We’re getting married tomorrow,” Rhys says, and even though Sasha’s dress is hanging on the back of their bedroom door, he can barely believe it.

“Yeah,” she says. And then: “I’m glad you’re scared, too.”

Rhys grins and leans forward to kiss the top of her head. “I’m mostly happy,” he says. “A little scared. A lot excited.”

“Me too,” she says, and twists around to look him in the eye. “I’m _happy_.”

From her smiling eyes to the yellow polish on her nails, she looks it.

Sasha, happy, is the most beautiful thing Rhys has ever seen.


	3. fiona/athena: sharp shocks to your soft side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompts: "just trust me" and "you're in love with her." modern au.
> 
> _sharp shocks to your soft side_ , or: everyone handles fiona's feelings for athena, except for fiona.

**i** // _lips speak louder, better back together._

“It’s good,” Fiona says, “just trust me.”

Athena looks suspiciously at the drink in her hand, finally raising it to her mouth and taking a miniscule sip.

“Oh,” she says, surprised. “That’s… actually nice.” She takes another sip and then passes the glass to Janey. “You made this?” she asks Fiona.

“Uh-huh. Designed it myself.”

“What’s it got in it?” Sasha asks curiously.

“I’m not revealing my secrets,” Fiona says, dropping an olive into a martini glass.

“I hope that’s not code for ‘something gross’,” Janey says. “Ooh. That is good. Want to bartend at the wedding, Fiona?”

“Uhh,” Fiona says. She looks back and forth from Janey to Athena. “I’ll be right back.”

“Babe, we’re not getting Fiona to work the wedding,” Athena says patiently, watching as Fiona heads to the other side of the bar to fetch clean glasses. “She’s a guest.”

“She could do both if she wanted,” Janey points out, and then smiles sadly. “Looks like she doesn’t, though. Did I do something to—? I mean, she’s a little weird. Around me. Unless I’m imagining it?”

“You’re not imagining it,” Sasha says, sliding the martini glass closer and popping the olive into her mouth.

Janey and Athena both turn to her expectantly, waiting for an elaboration.

Sasha looks back at them, swallowing her olive with a raised eyebrow. “If you know, you know,” she says. “If you don’t know…” She shrugs, and then leans over the counter to grab the jar of olives. “She wouldn’t tell if you asked, and I won’t tell in her place.”

Athena turns to watch Fiona again, thoughtful this time.

“But,” Sasha adds, “you might not want to bring up the wedding so much around her.” She sticks two more olives in her mouth. “You didn’t hear that from me, by the way.”

“Oh,” Janey says, her smile sliding. “Is she having relationship troubles?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, we know all about that.” Janey looks to Athena and smiles. “Also know you can get through ‘em, if you try.”

“Uh-huh,” Sasha says, watching as Janey takes another sip from Athena’s glass and then passes it back to her fiancée.

Sasha meets Athena’s gaze, then, and she can tell from the frown playing around the corners of Athena’s eyes and mouth that she knows. Athena knows. Sasha frowns back at her.

“We won’t mention it again,” Athena says carefully as Fiona makes her way back toward them with several clean glasses and a new bottle of whiskey.

“Good,” Sasha says.

“Won’t mention what?” Fiona asks, setting everything down on the bar.

“It’s nothing,” Sasha says, sending a final glare in Athena’s direction before greeting her sister with a smile. “Trust me.”

 

**ii** // _a sharp shock to your soft side._

“I know, Fiona,” Rhys says, uncharacteristically gentle. “You’re in love with her.”

“What?” Fiona says, wiping down the counter with a tag and determinedly not looking Rhys in the eye. “ _I_ would have given Sasha a ride home, you know. You didn’t need to drag your ass outside at two in the morning.”

“She called,” Rhys says, shrugging, “and you’re avoiding the subject.”

“There’s no subject to avoid,” Fiona says tersely, but she shoots a quick look toward the door where Athena, Janey, and Sasha are laughing about… something. Probably more fucking wedding plans.

“You,” Rhys repeats, “are in love with—eugh!” he exclaims, wiping dirty water from his mouth, “will you chill out a little?!”

Fiona had smacked him in the face with her rag.

“We’re not doing this,” she says, her voice a little more high-pitched than usual. “You. Me. Talking about… this. It’s not happening. Okay?”

“You’ve got to talk to someone,” Rhys says, wiping his eyes now. “Sasha says you won’t talk to her.”

“There is nothing to talk about!!” Fiona hisses, semi-hysterical. “And _what_ ,” she adds, taking a deep breath as she wrings out her rag and resumes cleaning, “would _you_ know about it, anyway? About what I’m… I mean, fuck,” she says, shaking her head. “I may not understand it. I may not _like_ it. But—Sasha loves you. _You_ … cannot possibly know what I’m… _God_ , Rhys, just drop it.” Her voice changes over the course of her tirade, the hysteria subsiding completely til all that’s left is sadness and exhaustion.

“Okay,” Rhys says. throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Okay.”

Fiona watches him suspiciously as he pulls out a barstool and sits down.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting a drink.”

“I’m _closing up_ for the night,” Fiona says, valiantly trying to achieve the level of anger and exasperation she usually reserves for him.

It falls flat, though, and Rhys raises his eyebrows.

“Ugh,” Fiona says. “Fine. We have cans in the fridge. You can have one of those.”

“Thank you.”

They’re both quiet momentarily as Rhys cracks open his beer and Fiona sweeps behind the bar.

Rhys tries repeatedly to catch Fiona’s eye.

Fiona succeeds repeatedly in evading him.

“Will you please talk to Sasha?” Rhys tries after a couple minutes, cautious of being hit in the face with something harder than a wet rag. “She worries about you.”

“She shouldn’t.”

“Tough,” Rhys says. “Because she does. Look, Fiona. I know you’re protective of her, but she’s all grown up now. You don’t need to shield her from your feelings. Just—tell her what’s going on.”

Fiona looks furious for a second, drawn up to her full height, green eyes flashing, and if Rhys hadn’t been on the receiving end of her anger umpteen times before, he might have melted away into the floor. He doesn’t, though, and she lets her shoulders slump again, the anger dying as quickly as it had flared up.

“It’s stupid,” she mutters. “Why don’t you get it? There’s no point talking about it because nothing will ever change. Nothing will ever be different. It was always going to be—and I can’t—” Fiona shakes her head. “I’m done, Rhys. Get out of here.”

Rhys frowns, and he looks so hurt that Fiona almost laughs. She gestures behind her.

“I’m done closing up the bar. Where I work? I need you to get your ass outside so that I can go home.”

“Oh,” Rhys says, hopping up quickly. “Right. Yeah.”

“If you tell her,” Fiona adds, “I’ll kill you.”

“You’re in love with her,” Rhys says again, more pointedly this time. “I think she knows.”

 

**iii** // _summer moon, catch your shut eye / in my room._

Athena knocks on her bedroom door.

Fiona can tell that it’s Athena because Janey’s knocks are accompanied by cheerful greetings. Athena just knocks.

“Come in,” Fiona calls automatically, and her breath catches in her throat when Athena pushes open the door and steps through the doorway in an oversized t-shirt and flannel pyjama pants.

This is a bad idea. This—Athena, here, in her apartment; _here_ , in her bedroom—is a _spectacularly_ bad idea.

Fiona does nothing as Athena closes the door and moves to sit beside her on the bed. It’s a surreal feeling, being so close to her. Not that they _haven’t_ been this close before, but—never alone; never like this. Fiona wishes at the same time that she were closer or anywhere else in the world.

“Is Janey asleep?” she asks.

Athena nods. “Thanks again for letting us stay here while we’re in town.”

“Yeah,” Fiona says. “Did you come here at 4 AM to say that?”

“We—we should talk,” Athena says, and then winces.

Fiona opts quickly for ‘anywhere else in the world’.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she says.

“I’m sorry.”

Athena sounds so sincere that Fiona physically hurts.

She’d bitten her tongue, she realizes. 

She could dance around the issue. _Sorry for what?_ Make Athena say it. She could deny it, then.

“Don’t be,” she says. “Janey is—she’s great.”

“She is,” Athena says. “She’s the kindest person I’ve ever…” She trails off and looks down at her feet, more unguarded than Fiona has ever seen her.

Fiona wants to reach for her.

“I’m happy for you guys,” she says, unnaturally still, focusing on keeping her hands frozen on her knees.

“Are you?” Athena asks, and she meets Fiona’s gaze openly for the first time since she’d walked into the room.

“I will be.”

It’s the most honest thing Fiona’s said all evening.

Athena considers this for a moment.

“You don’t have to come to the wedding,” she says. “I mean, I’d understand if you don’t want to.”

Fiona looks back at Athena and wonders that if she kissed her, then, Athena would notice the taste of blood. It’s a stupid thought, in more ways than one, but she holds onto it for a second. Thinks about her hands in Athena’s hair. Thinks about the way Athena is both gruff and gentle, and how that might translate to intimacy. Thinks about how neither of them will ever know, because Athena loves Janey more.

“You’re my friend,” Fiona says, her fingers still gripping her knees. “Of course I’m coming to your wedding.”

Athena looks relieved, and—Fiona can’t _breathe_ —briefly rests a hand over Fiona’s. “Thank you,” she says, and stands up, withdrawing her hand as she does so.

Fiona’s skin feels cold where Athena’s had been: proverbial feet over a proverbial grave.

“I’ll be there,” Fiona says again. “Trust me.”

“I do,” Athena says as she leaves.

Rhys’s voice echoes in Fiona’s head as soon as Athena has closed the door behind her. _You’re in love with her. You’re in love with her. You’re—_

“Shut _up_ ,” Fiona says aloud, and collapses face-first into her pillow.

God, she _hates_ when he’s right.


	4. fiona & rhys: 'you're in love with her.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the prompt "you're in love with her," taken in a different direction.
> 
> fiona & rhys, implied rhys/sasha.

“Oh my God,” Fiona says, jabbing Rhys in the chest with an accusatory finger. “You’re in love with her.”

“ _Ow_ ,” Rhys says emphatically, swatting Fiona’s hand away. “What was that for?!”

“You said that things with her ’weren’t that serious’!”

“Well, what else was I going to say?” Rhys says, jumping back as Fiona tries to poke him again. “I knew you would—ow! Stop… _attacking_ me!”

“How long?” Fiona demands. “ _When_ were you going to tell me?!”

“Uhh—never?”

“She’s my _sister_.”

“Yeah,” Rhys says, grabbing a wooden cutting board from the kitchen counter and using it to shield himself. “Exactly. She’s… you’re not her _dad_ , Fiona. I don’t need your permission to—”

“ _To?_ ”

“Court… her…” Rhys finishes lamely.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Fiona says. “‘ _Court her_.’ That’s really cute. Look. I don’t _want_ to know what two get up to. I just…” She shakes her head, finally letting her hands drop her hips. “I’m the only family she has left. It’s my job to look out for her.”

Rhys peers at her over the top of his makeshift shield. She looks tired. Defeated.

Lonely?

“She’s the only family _you_ have left,” he realizes.

“That’s what I _said_ , asshole.”

“No,” Rhys says slowly. “No, it’s—it’s more than that. You miss her.”

Fiona glares at him, and he knows he’s touched a nerve. Either he’s right, or she’s about to start poking him again. Probably both.

He takes another step back, just in case.

“Are you—jealous of me?”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“You are!” Rhys crows, grinning. “Fiona. You really need to start dating. Get out more. I’ve heard there are some great apps out— _ow_ , God, were you _always_ this crazy?!”

“Hey,” Sasha says mildly from the kitchen doorway. “Everything alright here?”

Fiona and Rhys freeze, Rhys behind his shield, Fiona’s hands on either side of the board as she tries to tug it away.

“Uhh,” Rhys says.

“Yep,” Fiona says breezily. “Dandy.”

“Okay,” Sasha agrees, and leaves them to it.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @lesbidar! feel free to leave prompts.


End file.
